I took advantage of the timing to run today's print column in advance on Friday to coincide with the 50th anniversary of the JFK assassination.
If you missed it, you can read it here.
But I was somewhat taken aback Friday morning to learn something about the day that I'm amazed had not occurred to me before.
Nov. 22 was always a very special day in our family because it was our father's birthday.
My dad was the original "Quiet Man" (my kids say it is in the genes). He did not spend a lot of time doting on himself, nor celebrating anything as trivial as his birthday.
But you might have thought he - or we - would have had something special planned for that day.
I was reminded of all this in an email from my sister Kate Friday morning. She is the official keeper of the family records. And while I was very much aware that Nov. 22 was dad's birthday, I had no idea that he would have been 100 on Friday. Which of course means that JFK was assassinated on his 50th birthday.
I saw my dad cry exactly one time in my life. That night, when he got home after closing his store in North East, Md., he went into the closet, took off his coat, and broke down. Not much of a 50th birthday. And I imagine he was reminded of that sad fact every year thereafter.
To be honest, I'm kind of glad the while thing is over. I had a very weird - almost eerie feeling - all day on Friday. As if there was something that any of us could do that would have changed what happened on that day 50 years ago.
Compare that Washington, D.C., with the government we have today.
Camelot, indeed, is over.
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